


This Is Neil Josten

by Bookdancer



Series: Andreil Week 2019 [3]
Category: All For The Game - Nora Sakavic
Genre: Andreil Week 2019, Day 3, Don't copy to another site, M/M, Tattoos
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-10
Updated: 2019-07-10
Packaged: 2020-06-25 17:31:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 571
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19750447
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bookdancer/pseuds/Bookdancer
Summary: Tattoos are permanent, ink on his skin that Neil knows his mother would hate him for. They’re also a reminder of home.Aka Neil gets his first tattoo with Andrew and he’s sappy about it.





	This Is Neil Josten

**Author's Note:**

> this was written for the 2019 andreil week, day 3: tattoo/piercing
> 
> also thanks to @queenofmoons67 (tumblr handle) for beta-ing
> 
> i do not own the foxhole court, and i’ve also cross-posted this fic to ff.net (Bookdancer) and tumblr (@bookdancerfics)
> 
> i hope you all enjoy the fic!

They go to the tattoo parlor the week after Neil graduates. Andrew is with the Eagles, in D.C., and Neil had been drafted by the Baltimore Blue Crabs just the month before, with the result being a shared apartment between the two and Neil’s shaking hands the first time he opened the front door.

Andrew looked at him, silent, and held out his hand, and Neil took it as he stepped through the entryway.

In the parlor, Neil settles back into the chair, and while the tattoo artist arranges things, getting ready, Neil holds out his hand. Andrew takes it, meets his eyes, and squeezes.

“Junkie,” Andrew murmurs, and Neil can’t help but smile, something unfurling in his chest and making his cheeks warm.

The tattoo artist glances at them, the question obvious in her eyes, and Neil nods, holding out the hand Andrew isn’t holding. She takes it carefully and swabs rubbing alcohol over his inner wrist. She shaves the area next, and Neil wrinkles his nose at Andrew until his boyfriend rolls his eyes at him.

“Are you ready for your game tomorrow?” Neil asks eventually. The artist has moved on to transferring the design onto his skin with a stencil.

Andrew blinks at him. “What game?”

“An _drew_ ,” Neil hisses, but he has to fight a smile against Andrew’s obvious amusement.

“It’s only stickball.”

Neil shakes his head. “Don’t let Kevin hear you say that.”

Something rubs against his skin, and Neil notices that the tattoo artist is applying ointment to the transfer design. A few needles and a cup of water had been placed nearby while he was talking with Andrew.

“Ready?” the artist asks, and Neil nods.

Then the needle comes out, and he has to look away. The first bit hurts, but not as much as most of his injuries, and it’s not why he can’t bring himself to watch.

Tattoos are permanent, ink on his skin that Neil knows his mother would hate him for. They’re marks that say _this is Neil Josten_ , and there’s nothing he’ll be able to do about that after this.

Instead, he looks at Andrew, and Andrew squeezes his hand again, and Neil reminds himself why he’s doing this.

Not for the fashion, not to cover anything up. His tattoo will be hidden under his bands just like the rest of his arms. It’s a reminder. It’s something Neil can look at any time he doubts himself, or his hands tremble because he has a home to return to after games, or Andrew isn’t there to press the memory of himself into Neil’s skin, kiss all thoughts of running from Neil’s mind.

Andrew squeezes his hand again as the tattoo artist switches needles.

“You’re thinking too hard,” Andrew says.

Neil shrugs and smiles. “I just like that you’re here with me.”

Andrew blinks at him. “Was I supposed to be somewhere else?”

Neil sneaks a quick peak at his inner wrist, the one the artist is handling, and sees the clear outline of his new apartment key etched into his skin.

He looks back at Andrew and feels his smile widen.

“No,” he says, and squeezes Andrew’s hand again. “No, I just like it.”

 _Like you_ , goes unspoken. So does _like that I’m here_ , and _like that I’m Neil_ , and _like that we have the same apartment key_.

“245%,” Andrew says, and Neil knows he heard it anyway.

**Author's Note:**

> i made this as sappy as i thought i could get away with, so hopefully i pulled it off lol
> 
> also, i have a tumblr account, @bookdancerfics, so please feel free to drop by. sometimes i post writing updates
> 
> and, finally, please comment here! i love hearing what people think


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